


Doctor Who x Reader: The God Complex

by KingOfHearts709



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Fault, Other, The God Complex, doctor who - Freeform, praise him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 01:15:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4328211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingOfHearts709/pseuds/KingOfHearts709
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Praise Him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor Who x Reader: The God Complex

**Author's Note:**

> This used to just be "Doctor x Reader" but I felt that wasn't really pertaining to what it meant.  
> It wasn't to praise Him.  
> Praise Him  
> Praise Him  
> Praise Him

You wake on the ground. Your limbs are sore as you stand. You’re not sure where you are, but it looks to you like a hotel. You look round, spotting a staircase. You proceed to go up them, taking careful steps as you stretch your muscles. The stairs seem endless as you climb, that is, until you see a hallway. Walking into it, you can see doors. Just doors, normal doors, with room numbers on the plaques. You wonder, where are all the people? The people that rented rooms in this hotel, where have they gone?  
“Hello?” you call out, hoping to get an answer. When you don’t, you panic. You’re in an abandoned hotel on a planet or galaxy or wherever you are that is yet to be known to you. You navigate the doors. Each door has a different number, which aren’t in any particular order. First comes door six, then door thirty. Running your fingers along the plaques, you try to decide whether to open the doors. You don’t know what will happen if you do, but you weren’t going to find out unless you push open the door. You take a deep breath and turn the handle.  
“Hello?” you call again. No answer. It’s a normal looking hotel room, with a bed, lamp and bathroom. It’s nothing, you think to yourself. Nothing...  
Suddenly, a man walks out of the bathroom, a man with a bowtie. His face is twisted with anger when his eyes fall on you.  
“You did this!” he yells menacingly. You don’t know what he’s talking about. You’ve seen him before, even talked to him. You knew who he was.  
“Doctor...” you say quietly as tears begin to drip from your eyes.  
“It’s your fault!” he screams. “It’s all your fault! It’s always your fault, every time!”  
“I’m sorry...”  
“Get out! Get out!” You sniff and wipe a tear from your eye. You try to find something to keep you from crying, to keep you from crumbling under his words. “Get out!” You rush towards the door and leave, slamming it shut. You took a deep breath. My God, it was him, you think. It was him. You can feel words build up in your throat, burn on your tongue, but you don’t want to say them. You can’t say them, you’ll lose yourself. You can hear growling to your left. You give in. You have to, there’s no other way.  
“Praise him...” you mutter. Your voice gets louder as you repeat it. “Praise him... praise him...” You turn. You can see Him. You can see the God that wants you. The one that is going to gift you with death. You are blinded by Him, the God, the only God. Inside, you scream. You scream for your life, but it doesn’t show. You can’t scream because the worship is taking you over, it controls you now. You are not you anymore, you’re cooked. You’re ready. Ready for Him.


End file.
